Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists

An update from our eleventh Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our session on Friday June 12 posed the most challenging challenge yet: to try to write something where multiple voices are talking at once, in the same place, on the same subject, but not necessarily communicating with one another. We were joined by Prof. Dan Selden, a comparative literature professor at UCSC, and polyglot, to discuss the ways in which this kind of simultaneous story-telling unfolds in opera, and watched a selection of video clips of quartets and quintets from operas by Verdi, Rossini and Mozart. After a short discussion, the group spent time working on their pieces and then read aloud–in one case, with the participation of the whole group to simulate the overlapping voices in the writing (see Anya Geist’s work below). This was definitely the hardest thing we have tried to do in the workshop yet, but as always, everyone rose to the challenge and produced some amazing work, some of which you can read below. This week, we welcomed a record number of students, including a group from France, into the group. We’re glad you can all join us! The Writing Challenge: Write a piece one one subject, in one location, at the same time, using more than one voice. The Participants: Georgia, Ever, Benjamin, Seraj, Lucy, Liam H, Tilly, Katie, Eugenie, Maddie, Ma’ayan, Enni, Rhian, Flynn, Will, Seung Taek, Gregoire, Enya, Jules, James, Sophia, Aditi, Maddi, Clara, Agathe, Amy, Charlotte, Annais, Jasmine, Addison, Saige, Candice, Carolina, Teresa, Lily, Zacharie, Zaryama, Adam, Anastasia, Liam, Keraj, Vishnu, Eve… and more! Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA A Day at the Pond Anya Geist, 14 Peri Gordon, 10Sherman Oaks, CA Four Person Conflict Peri Gordon, 10 Xander and Dylan have been secretly robbing the town, not even telling their respective wives, Elise and Sandra. Those wives found out, though, and told the town’s mayor. The aftermath is a mix of guilt and anger. Sandra didn’t regret what she did. Elise regretted it. Dylan felt everything was all his fault. Xander felt pure anger with Elise and Sandra. They deserve punishment, going around and robbing every last person in town without anyone knowing! Not even their own wives! They have their secrets, why oh why did we have to spoil their fun? How terrible we are! Oh, I shouldn’t have gone along with this plan; I could have assured Xander that it was unnecessary! I don’t blame the girls for telling the mayor; I’m sure I would in their shoes! Oh, how I hate this mess I’ve gotten myself into! Those two little liars! I thought I could trust them, but there they went, snooping for our secrets! That maniacal Sandra! And her little sidekick, Elise, also known as my wife! Oh, how I hate those two now! Oh, how traitorous we are, Xander shall never forgive me! I’m sure he hates me, all the way to the core! My darling! Now my nemesis! Oh, how my Sandra will be ashamed of me! She has a complete right to be flaming mad at us! I shouldn’t have gone along with Xander’s plan, oh, how I shouldn’t have! I can’t believe they didn’t tell us! We’re their wives! Wives of robbers without knowing it! Wives of criminals! Those traitors! Those double-crossing traitors! I’ll never speak to them again, not if I can help it! Those traitors! Those traitorous fools! Liam Hancock, 12Danville, CA It Takes Us All: A Narrative Poem Liam Hancock, 12 Grasping, pulling. A timeless face lulling. He gropes. And he yanks Forever not holding. He drops the grain sand Poured from chapped hand And the sun and the thirst A constant demand As night, as day. The voices still holler It rings, it rings! But where is his caller? The mountains, the rocks And pink flowers bloom Yet he still remembers The sun takes him, too. Come, dear friend Come, please do find The ticking ticks on I seem not rewind This desert is death A dozen days wait Not falter your breath The thought I do hate Your face may still ashen Into dark sands The false, hopeful warmth Slipped from your hands Yet mine remain still Grasping for land The waves whisk me yet A constant demand He cries He shakes He feels the earth quake Someone awaits him A pressure can’t take The sun finds his way A knoll beyond day He lays down once more As he cries, casts away And a dream sleep still holds From a long broken mind He is so, and so cold A rock to sleep behind Steady a falls Grasping, he pulls Waiting Someone’s waiting Out in the cold How to tell? She must never know Because what if she’s wrong And the renegade still holds? A cowboy of death Harrumphing with step And hollering Shouting Spoken miracles with breath? Oh, the pink flowers bloom And she presses, grows old But the boy is still waiting Waiting out in the cold Now the sand grasps it Breath stolen from its sides Because what would time be Without its own time? Alive, Alive, Was he ever alive? Or was the sky just a false The times atop times? An evil trick slain It will never be told But the desert, the sky? As night, and as day. Enni Harlan, 13Los Angeles, CA A Moment from Two Perspectives Enni Harlan, 13 Four little boys are playing outside my window. Each seems about six or seven, and they are wrestling with one another. Their screams and laughter fly through my closed window pane, and I glance outside. Their idea of “fun” astounds me, as I watch them